


all was golden in the sky

by parkers



Series: underappreciated ship hell [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, POV Second Person, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3089849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkers/pseuds/parkers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>what should have been an uneventful summer is interrupted when one hinata shouyo is thrown into it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all was golden in the sky

you hate summer.

spring is light, autumn is carefree, and winter, at the most, is a little harsh, but summer is the time of unbearable heat, obnoxious tourists, and, worst of all, promised times of eternal youth, or whatever they call that bullshit.

the way people drone on and on about their golden memories of their high-school summer days and the way they’ll treasure their precious memories forever disgusts you. like hell they’ll remember some kids who claimed to be their friends years from the said summer.

you know for a fact that high-school kids blow everything up to ridiculous proportions, making weak promises and irrational claims (even if you are one). at least you admit that you won’t think so highly of yourself when you’re older; if anything, you’ll be embarrassed beyond comparison.

really, the only selling point of summer is the absence of school, but even that will change when you grow up, become an adult.

 

(akiteru jokingly calls you the number one summer hater. you remind him of his hatred for winter, and you two roll into a debate that ends up with him dumping ice on your head.)

 

so naturally, when you meet hinata shouyo, the embodiment of summer, you feel the all-too-familiar irritation and desire to break him into pieces.

 

when your mother tells you about the son of her high-school friend a few months before the end of school (and the start of a glaring sun), how he’s coming to stay over to learn what the city is like from his house in the countryside, you ignore the warning signs flashing off in your head, instead continuing to hide behind headphones and warm blankets.

 

when he arrives, you see what kind of person he is in an instant. hinata shouyo is a kid who’s always enthusiastic, the one with infinite energy and flashy grins and hard determination, the kind that puts his heart into anything he wants to do and never goes only halfway, the one that has to waste his energy on useless tasks. you know without talking to him, without even spending a minute with him. his face, his body, his hair gives it all away.

“hi!! you’re tsukishima, right?” he asks, brown eyes shining up at you. you give a half-hearted nod, bite back snappy remarks, and open the door wider, hoping even he understands that you want him to get inside and never see him again, no matter whether that is possible or not.

then, your mom tells you – surprise! – that he’s sleeping in your room, the room you used to share with your brother before he got his own.

even though you know it’s the most logical move, since you have a bunk bed, you still protest, glare, and scowl until you finally give up – it’s a hopeless case.

you tell hinata the news, not even bothering to hide your sullen attitude, and let him claim the top bunk, like you knew he would. your room is upstairs, with the boring offices and dusty closets, above the kitchen and the other, more lively rooms. when you explain this to him on your way upstairs, in the fewest words possible, his smile falls for a quick instant (you catch it and remember it, without wanting to), but quickly regains his energy when he jumps into your room. babbling about how nice it is, he even compliments the dinosaur toys on your bookshelf, causing you to cringe.

hinata calls your house huge and you give a derisive snort: even though it has two floors, the rooms are crammed together and the house looks plain, simple, uninteresting, stuck in the middle of a bustling street. was he really born in the middle of nowhere?

it’s going to be a long summer, you think as you watch him leave his bulging suitcase on the ground – how many things did he need to bring? and why leave your stuff in the middle of the floor? rude – and climb the ladder to the top bunk, staring eagerly down at you with those awful bright brown eyes.

 

why do you feel so nervous?

why do you feel every fiber in your body fluttering, heart protesting as you stare back at him? instead of dread, a sense of flighty nervousness overtakes you, and you try to shove the feelings out, out, but they stay, pesky butterflies without a care in the world.

 

hinata shouyo bothers you in all the wrong ways.

he leaves his belongings on the ground carelessly, spills food and cleans it up messily, insists on talking to you for hours, and keeps you up all night with the way he shifts in his sleep, the creaks of the bedsprings loud in the dim almost-silence of cars passing by outside.

akiteru’s convinced you like him, constantly teasing you when he sees you with that tell-tale scowl on your face. “thinking about hinata-kun again?” he asks, laughing (and ducking) when you chuck the nearest object at his head, including (but not limited to) volleyballs, pencils, and shoes.

to akiteru’s credit, you _are_ thinking about hinata, about all the ways that shrimp frustrates you and makes you want to strangle him. you know what kind of person he is, you know him already, you know that he’s the kind to chase after adventure like an overeager dog after a useless stick, the kind that tells themself to never give up and to fight for their pride, words that look like so much to them and nothing to you. you know all that already, you know you’ll never change the way you think about him or the way you hate, hate, _hate_ him.

 

yet you wonder how many tiny orange freckles he has, or what the precise shade of brown his eyes are, or about the way he can jump up so high, as if he had wings and was flying to the sun, and for a moment, he makes you wonder if summer – if youth itself – was more than you’d thought.

 

you try to decline when yamaguchi invites you to the beach, hating the loud noises and the heat and the masses of both tourists and locals, but here you are, sitting on sand under the shade of a large umbrella stuck crookedly in the ground, wiping sweat off your forehead.

hinata plays volleyball, you know that now (although too late to stop him from dragging you into a game of beach volleyball). it explains his amazing jumping ability.

he’s made for being a spiker, you think to yourself. you play volleyball too, but you remind yourself it’s not something you’re serious about. however, you can tell hinata loves volleyball with all his heart too, an athlete who would give up everything just to play and win.

although you were expecting it, his intensity is overwhelming, reaching even you. he is a furious fire burning a spot into the floor of the court, and you wonder if he’ll ever go out. you tell yourself to ignore him, to stay away from reckless idiots like him before you get burned, before you fool yourself into thinking that determination is enough to get you wherever you want to go, into thinking that you don’t have to rely on natural talent, yet for a moment, you found yourself staring at his back, staring at how brightly he shines, unable to look away.

then the illusion was gone when he nearly knocked you over, jumping up and down while gripping your arms, wide-eyed and grinning, utterly pleased with himself. “tsukishima, did you see that!? tsukishima, did you –”

“yes, i saw that,” you replied, trying to shake him off. somewhere in the distance, yamaguchi laughed.

and now you watch him play in the ocean, wondering how he’s still so upbeat even in this hot, hot weather surrounded by so many goddamn people.

eventually, after what seems like forever of you staring at the ocean with boredom, he runs up to you, drops of salt water clinging to every inch of him. he looks almost like a puppy, an idea that startles you with how mushy it is. crushing your soft feelings immediately, you ask him when you can return home, only for him to – to hug you.

“the hell?” you snap, but that’s all you can say, because the rest of your words are caught in your throat. your cheeks immediately turn red, and you’re not sure what to do, as your heartbeat begins to race and all you can think about is the warmth from hinata’s body as skin presses to skin and how his chin fits perfectly on your shoulder and silky orange hair brushing your cheek, his hands hesitantly touching your bare back, his heartbeat running as quick as yours –

“and that was ten seconds! bye tsukishima!” hinata releases you, hastily turns, and runs back to the ocean. “now, yamaguchi, you’ve gotta buy me ice cream! i did it!”

it was a dare, you realize, but your fingers are shaking and you’re more than just a little nervous and embarrassed.

you can’t believe you let that get to you, what was yamaguchi thinking?? but you know your best friend, you know what he was thinking, and you refuse to acknowledge it, because that idea is ridiculous, it’s just pure rubbish and nothing more.

 

but your mind, your traitorous mind, replays the touch over and over again, and you remember that quick warmth, warmer than the sun that shines above your head, and your skin can’t stop tingling.

* * *

 

you can’t do this.

it’s one month before hinata leaves, back to the middle of nowhere, and for some reason, you don’t want him to leave.

all you wanted a few days ago was for hinata to be gone – or did you? it’s hard to tell when exactly you started feeling this way, but now, whenever you think of that annoying, irritating, ridiculous shrimp leaving, something hurts, and you want to hold onto him, but you can’t and you shouldn’t, you know that much.

instead, you sulk and watch hinata with what akiteru now calls “pining eyes” – it may be true, just _a little_ , but you still throw things at him when he says that.

at night you stay up sometimes, listening to the sound of cars driving past your window and the occasional honking and the sound of hinata’s soft breaths and the not-so-annoying squeaking of the bedsprings, and you try not to think about the end of summer.

 

“tsukishima," hinata says suddenly one late afternoon as you’re on your phone, leaning on your bed and browsing through articles about dinosaurs. “what do you think of summer?”

you look at him with surprise laced with irritation. “why do you want to know?”

“well, you don’t seem to like summer very much,” hinata says.

“way to point out the obvious,” you say and go back to reading about famous paleontologists.

“i want to know why,” hinata says, a determined tone in his voice. you know he won’t let you go until you give him a satisfying argument, so you sigh and start.

“it’s really hot. lots of people come here during the summer. you’re expected to enjoy it and live your youth to the fullest, but that’s all bullshit.”

“what do you mean by that last part?” you’re still not looking at him when you reply.

“people say that summer is the time of happiness and memories, right?” you don’t wait for his reply before continuing. “i disagree. that’s all.”

“so you don’t care about summer?”

“more like i don’t like it.”

“so... what about this summer? do you care?” his voice comes out softly, to your surprise.

no, you’re about to say, no, i don’t like this summer at all, like all my other summaries, that’s the obvious answer, but what comes out instead is the utter opposite. “yeah.”

although you can hear people talking loudly and the commotion of the world outside, a thick yet fragile silence takes over the room. you’re not sure why you said yes. you definitely meant no, didn’t you?

you did mean yes, your mind whispers. you want this summer to last forever, you want _hinata_.

“you care,” hinata says – even without looking, you can see the surprised, unsteady expression on his face, and you can’t bring yourself to respond, so you absorb yourself in your phone, although despite the words in front of you, you can’t focus on anything, just the chaos in your head. “do you like me?” he asks, straight to the point like always, and you finally look at hinata. with intense, yet slightly nervous eyes and a wobbly-line of a mouth, he looks almost adorable – almost, you catch yourself there – as he leans forwards, hands clenched into fists as he stares at you. the attention focused on you right now is more unsettling than the attention of a whole classroom of people, no, a whole school of people, and you’re frozen, unsure what to say. no, you want to say, no no no, i don’t, but your mouth betrays you again.

“yeah.”

“in that case,” hinata says, eyes still locked on yours, and takes a deep breath, “would you mind if i, like, kissed you, right now?”

this time you want to say yes, i do mind, go away and leave me alone, i can’t stay near you or i’ll burn myself on your flames, on your spirit, but instead, a strangled “go ahead” finds it way out of your mouth.

hinata edges closer and you feel yourself grow more and more nervous every second that passes. you expect hinata to jump in immediately, but you’re wrong about what he’s going to do for once. he shuffles closer and closer, cheeks pinking as he stares at you with determination.

you shut your eyes in a childish way to hide away from the problems in front of you, and then he’s there, his mouth on yours, more hesitant than you expected. it’s quick and it’s innocent-enough, but when he pulls away, your cheeks are a infuriatingly embarrassing shade of red, and you can’t find the right words to say.

“was that.... alright?” he asks hesitantly, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him so vulnerable, like the tiny kid he is.

you really don’t know how to respond, your mind is literally short-circuiting and you’ve got nothing to say, no idea what to do, so you let your body direct you. your hands go to his face, tender fingers touching his warm cheeks, and you’re not sure why you’re being so careful, so delicate, so considerate.

and now you know what they mean, “you’ll remember those memories,” because this moment is being engraved into your mind, this moment with the golden sunshine lighting up the small room, hinata’s soft skin underneath your fingers, the silence delicate yet so peaceful, and your eyes widen with the realization that you’re making a huge mistake and this is exactly the situation you hated, but you’re here and this time you may or may not like it.

ah, fuck, you’ve really done it this time, tsukishima, you think to yourself, you’ve fallen in love, haven’t you?

a “dinner’s ready!” startles the two of you. you jerk back, then hastily leave the room.

when you head downstairs, you are unable to meet hinata’s eyes. still, his hand reaches for yours, and you, despite yourself, let him.

 

you try to ignore it, the warnings going off in your head every night. two weeks left, you hear in the whispers in the summer breeze and in the ticking of the old clock in your room, hidden behind hinata’s words and tucked behind kisses.

you can’t believe that you’ve just gone and done it, great job tsukishima. you fell for a boy you’ve only known for a month, and now he’ll be gone soon, far away from you. what’s the chance your relationship will last, in the months of separation?

 

hinata asks if he can sleep on the bottom bunk with you, and, after thinking this is going too fast, too reckless, you agree and let him crawl in with you. he’s much smaller than you and falls asleep almost instantly, head on your chest and body pressed right next to yours. you hope he can’t hear the frantic beating on your heart that gradually slows as you get used to the idea that oh god, hinata shouyo is practically cuddling with you.

and it’s strange, the way you drift off to sleep so swiftly, so smoothly, much faster than when you didn’t have him by your side.

you’re glad you wake up and get out of bed before akiteru barges into your room. fortunately, he doesn’t seem to notice the fact that hinata usually sleeps in the top bunk and cheerfully tells you that breakfast will be ready in ten minutes before leaving. you shake hinata awake, being gentle despite yourself – since when were you a gross romantic? you frown at that thought.

when his eyes open sleepily, he yawns and grins at you. “morning, tsukishima.”

“don’t miss breakfast,” you say, “and get out of bed.”

“alright.” he reluctantly sits up, a mess of orange hair and rumpled clothing. you’re glad he can’t see your inner thoughts.

without warning, he quickly leans forward and presses a small kiss to your cheek.

“d-don’t do that all of a sudden,” you protest, but both of you know very well that you don’t hate it as much as you say you do.

 

“so, have you changed your opinion on summer?!”

“don’t make me answer that question.”

 

“i don’t want to leave,” he says in a brief moment of weakness. “i mean, i have a life to return to, but i - i’ll miss you.”

“i know,” you say and tighten your grip around him, trying not to show how torn up you really are about it. “you have internet, right?”

“you’re – we’re – in luck; our house is one of the few with wi-fi.”

“what about a phone?”

“my mom’s getting me one soon,” hinata responds. “i’ll make sure to keep in touch, promise.”

“okay,” you say, quietly, and the words are hard to say, but you want to say them to hinata. “don’t forget about me.” as much as you hate to look at it, that’s your greatest fear – that hinata will eventually move on while you’re still attached to him hopelessly, leaving you behind as he progresses further in life. you’re scared of the day he’ll stop responding, from the day you’ll never hear from him again. it might happen to you too, you know that, you might lose interest in him and leave him behind. you know it’s your fault for getting in this mess in the first place, that you’re becoming someone you despise and look down on for sentimentality, but you can’t help it.

“i won’t,” he says, like you knew he would. and because it’s hinata, out of all people, you believe him.

 

this isn’t happening, you think as you arrive at the airport, but it is, you’re walking with him through sliding doors and checking flights and oh god, not this.

there’s lots of noise – families talking, announcements about flights and baggage, workers helping customers – but it goes blank and fuzzy in your ears.

hinata looks up at you, more subdued than usual, and you try not to look affected, instead opting for a scowl. hinata smiles when he sees that, and you glare back down at him, trying not to let your feelings get in the way.

“well, there’s the gate,” he says, voice cracking a little.

“come back again, hinata-kun,” your mother says, trying to sound cheerful.

“i definitely will!” hinata says and smiles again.

“have a safe journey!” akiteru says and pats hinata’s shoulder.

“i’ll, uh, try,” hinata says. then, he looks at you, almost expectantly.

you want to kiss him, but your family’s here – oh well, whatever. you lean down, hinata leans up on his toes, and you hope you don’t die of embarrassment.

“promise to talk to me,” you say after you pull back.

“obviously!” hinata laughs, then turns tail and runs, as forwards as always. you watch his back as he leaves you and wonders if it’s tears he’s wiping from his eyes.

“cheer up, kei,” akiteru says to you, gentle but firm. “that sad look doesn’t suit you.”

“hmph,” you respond, but you don’t deny his words.

 

_to: tsukkei@mail.com_

_from: hinatashouyo10@mail.com_

_boo!!_

_here i am! : >_

_miss you tons!! <3_

_to: hinatashouyo10@mail.com_

_from: tsukkei@mail.com_

_took you long enough._

**Author's Note:**

> (title from when the day met the night (p!atd))  
> i love sad summer aus ahah but hey!! there's hope!!  
> i tried writing a diff way than usual; hope it sounds passable :/  
> thaks for reading!!


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